


Shattered

by lustig



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Counted Word Fic, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Post-Canon, Quintuple Drabble, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:13:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lustig/pseuds/lustig
Summary: Richelieu comes back to a France he doesn’t recognise anymore – the wrong king on the throne, the wrong person at his side and his life’s work in pieces.
Relationships: Armand Jean du Plessis de Richelieu/de Tréville (Trois Mousquetaires)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> Sometime ago, when the Trevilieu fandom was still active on tumblr, someone mentioned an idea of a post-canon story, where Richelieu didn't die but was imprisoned by the Spanish and comes back after the end of S3 - and tries to build up the Kingdom again.
> 
> Some weeks ago, I was listening to a song, ["Rabenballade" by Sören Vogelsang](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jmbqMgCwkvo) (a very good version of the song) while thinking about Trevilieu.
> 
> This is what happened afterwards.

An expression of quiet disbelief held his face frozen like the brownish grey leaves all around him, rustling so unlike soft parchment whenever he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes couldn’t stray from a spot on the ground which didn’t look any different from the rest of the yard he was standing in.

Nothing here told the story of the hero who died to save the king, no memorial, no stone, not even a bloodstain was visible.

And yet.

The unbelievable had happened.

Treville had died before him.

Jean had left him behind.

And Richelieu hadn’t been there to hear of it first-hand. He had been held by the Spanish, hoping against hope his knight would come to free him.

And now, finally back in Paris, he learnt not only that he had lost his King, a boy he had helped find his place in the world and raise into a man, but also that his confidante, his friend, his _lover_ had given his life in the service of France, months ago, in another traitorous attempt against young King Louis XIV.

He had run himself ragged, the musketeers had said, had taken over as First Minister, as Minister of War, against his will and better knowledge.

He had died alone, in pain, betrayed by those he had raised like his own flesh and blood.

He had died without Richelieu having another chance to see him, to share a secretive smile, to breathe in his scent.

Richelieu was still unable to wrap his mind around it.

Treville had always been a constant, a bastion of calm and strength and faith – in himself, but also in Richelieu, in their efforts of creating a better France. Returning to him, thoughts of them being together, had been what kept Richelieu sane during his imprisonment.

Now, there was a gaping hole where nothing should have been missing. And everyone seemed to have moved on, as if the death of Jean didn’t change anything, as if his death didn’t _mean_ anything.

A dark, croaking laughter tore him out of his thoughts. His head snapped up, around, looking for the assailant, and found a monstrous black raven staring back at him. The bird’s eyes were unsettlingly intelligent, and another mocking laugh, a flapping of wings sent cold shivers down the Cardinal’s spine.

He couldn’t move, spellbound by the terrible gaze. The raven croaked, low and slow, and it sounded so much like _Jean_ that Richelieu finally tore himself away, grabbed the first thing that came to hand and threw it in the direction of the bird.

With shrill, taunting shouts of _Jean, Jean, Jean_ , the raven dived down, towards the Cardinal, and even though he ducked away from the attack, the claws brushed through his curls, tearing down the Zucchetto.

The laughter of the bird died away, disappearing with every beat of the black wings.

A lone feather landed on the spot where Treville had fallen, a season ago.

And Armand wept.


End file.
